


you go on ahead (i'll hang around)

by khilari



Series: Papyrus W.D. Gaster [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Babybones (Undertale), Gen, Wingdings is Papyrus, childhood illness, skeletons who are just about adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-09
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7143407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khilari/pseuds/khilari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bits and pieces of the lives of Sans and Wingdings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mornings are better than others, but at least neither of them is alone.

_Taptaptap_ on the bedroom door and the vaguely eldritch sound of Wingdings trying to be quiet follows. [‘Saaans.’]

‘Mrmmmmph,’ Sans hunches up under the cover a bit more.

The door creaks open. [‘I made your packed lunch, but if you’re going to school today you have to get up now.’] _Taptaptap_ go little feet on the floor and a hand presses against Sans’ forehead. [‘Are you going to school today?’]

‘There’s no point,’ Sans mutters into his pillow. ‘By the time I catch up I’ll just be sick again.’

Wingdings pats him uncertainly. [‘You’re still meant to go when you can.’]

‘Mrgh.’ Sans doesn’t want to go to school with people who see each other every day and him occasionally. He also doesn’t want to stay here alone. Most of all he doesn’t want to wake up all the way and get out of bed.

Wingdings sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed, a tiny little bundle of bones that barely dents the mattress. [‘Maybe I should stay home too?’]

Sans rubs his eye sockets and reluctantly emerges. He’s eleven and his seven-year-old brother is making him lunch and worrying about leaving him at home on his own. He should at least make an effort not to be this useless. ‘You love school.’

Wingdings looks down and clasps his hands together, poking his middle fingers through the holes in the palms. [‘Sometimes.’]

Looks like Sans isn’t the only one with problems and the thought prompts him to sit up and put a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. ‘Something happen?’

[‘No. I just… people don’t understand me.’] He screws up his face with effort. ‘Even when I talk right I say the wrong thing.’

‘You’re getting real good at that,’ Sans says. ‘And _I_ always understand you.’

[‘That’s why you’re my favourite!’] Wingdings says, instantly brightening. [‘If you come we can sit together at lunch and then we’ll both have someone to talk to!’]

Sans hesitates for a moment, but his bed is less tempting now he’s partly out of it. ‘Can’t say no to that.’


	2. Bluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fourteen-year-old Sans deals with someone picking on his brother.

The dump is a good place to look for things to sell, especially if that means things you can convince people to buy rather than things that are actually valuable. Sans is getting good at selling things to his classmates. Wingdings, on the other hand, is looking for cardboard boxes to make a town for his action figures. Sans isn’t really looking forward to having to step over that for the next few months, but his brother is zipping around the dump happily, occasionally running back to drop a box near Sans, keeping up non-stop chatter about the project whether he’s in earshot or not. He’s brought an action figure with him to help him choose boxes and keeps getting distracted by having them climb things and plotting routes across gaps he thinks they can jump.

Wingdings is out of sight behind an old fridge when Sans hears him yell. Scrambling up the pile of rubbish higher, Sans can hear him shouting still.

[‘You did not see him first! I brought him from home!’] He’s clutching his action figure against his chest while a monster — an astigmatism — a few years older than him tries to take it, grinning. Wingdings is clearly too upset to talk in a way that can be understood, but it’s not like the astigmatism would listen anyway. [‘Leave me alone!’] Wingdings throws out a tiny bone, not even really close to the astigmatism.

‘Quit trying to be tough and hand it over,’ the astigmatism says, looming. They shove Wingdings and he falls, sitting up a moment later with one hand clasped to his eye, the other still holding his action figure.

‘Hey.’ Sans doesn’t shout. Helping with his brother’s speech therapy means Wingdings isn’t the only one who can use his voice in ways unnatural to him, and Sans has a _much_ better trick than that. A hollow lifeless voice, letting his eye sockets go out — it’s pure theatrics, but it looks so _cool_. ‘You’d better not be giving my brother a hard time.’

The astigmatism blinks, a large eye opening, wide with fear, as their grin becomes eyelashes. ‘What are you gonna do?’ An orb appears above their hand.

‘Ah!’ Wingdings says, more fear in his eyes than in the astigmatism’s. [‘Don’t — he can’t really — d-don’t —’]

Sans settles his feet firmly on the trash and grins wider, grateful for the position advantage that lets him look down at another monster for a change. ‘You really don’t want to find out.’

There’s a moment when he wonders if the astigmatism’s going to throw the orb, then it closes its eye again, reverting to its other face. ‘Fine. Keep the stupid thing.’

The moment the astigmatism’s out of sight Wingdings is scrambling up to Sans, already shouting. This close Sans can see the scratch over his eye and the dust flaking off it. [‘Sans! What were you thinking! That was reckless!’] Wingdings stops on the heap of trash, waving his hands about, one of them still clutching his action figure.

‘What? I’m fine, you were about to fight him yourself and you’re the one that got hurt…’ Sans reaches out and Wingdings pushes his hand away furiously.

[‘That’s different! You don’t even know how to fight!’]

Sans grins. ‘I know how to act like I know how to fight, though. Got the job done, didn’t it?’

‘Argh!’ Wingdings pushes him. [‘That’s what I mean! You shouldn’t do that!’]

‘Why not?’ Sans reaches for him again. ‘Lemme look at that eye.’

[‘No! I can heal myself! Unlike you!’] Wingdings smacks a hand into his eye and winces when it hits, but a moment later there’s a green glow. He lowers his hand looking tired, but the scratch is gone. [‘See?’]

‘I don’t get why you’re so mad about me helping you out.’

[‘Because! Because if people _know_ they could kill you then… then even if they’re mean they’ll be careful, but if they think you’re tough they might… they might…’] There are tears welling in Wingdings’ eye sockets.

‘I dunno about your theory there. He was okay picking on you and you’re just a little kid.’

[‘I’m ten! And I’m stronger than you.’] Wingdings sniffs and wipes a hand across his face and Sans swallows his retort. Oh shit, he just made his little brother cry.

‘Hey, c’mon, I’m fine.’ He rubs a hand over the top of Wingdings’ skull. ‘I knew I’d be fine. That always works.’

[‘Always?’]

‘Yeah.’

Wingdings sighs deeply. [‘That just means people attack you a lot.’]

‘Nah. People just think about attacking me a lot.’

Wingdings’ head drops and he clutches his action figure against his chest. [‘Can we go home?’]

‘What about your boxes?’

[‘I don’t want them any more!’] Wingdings grabs Sans’ hand. [‘Please. Let’s go home.’]

‘Yeah. Okay.’ Sans wonders, as they walk down the path on their way to the riverperson’s boat, whether Wingdings will come back here by himself next time. He’s safer with Sans, Sans can handle people in a way his little brother can’t, but he just… won’t believe it. There’s nothing Sans can say to change his mind.


	3. Star Light, Star Bright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans and Wingdings (at ages nine and five) visit Waterfall for the first time with their mother.

They’ve never been this far from the capital before. The capital is a grey city, lit here and there by streaks of gold as sunlight finds its way through cracks in the distant roof. Waterfall is darker, yet brighter, a place of shadows and reflections. Gleaming echo flowers and soft light catching in the wake of the ferry. Normally Wingdings would be exclaiming over everything, but he’s curled up at the back of the boat muttering something to himself. Sans lies back against his mother’s shoulder. He feels a little hot, a little fuzzy, a little like his bones are being held together too tightly.

‘You okay, sweetie?’ she asks.

‘Mm. S’pretty,’ Sans mutters. The riverperson makes him feel shy. He doesn’t like it when people’s faces are hidden.

They draw up to the dock and Wingdings immediately uncoils and jumps out.

‘Wait for us, sunshine,’ Lucida calls after her vanishing son and Wingdings turns on his heels and darts back to them, apparently unable to stay still now he’s on solid ground.

[‘Come on, come on! Even Sans isn’t that slow!’] he calls back at them.

Sans huffs a laugh as Lucida helps him out of the boat. ‘Don’t be rude,’ she chides, but Wingdings isn’t listening. He’s stopped by a clump of echo flowers skull cocked. Little stars appear in his eyes, then vanish, and he runs back to grab Lucida’s hand.

[‘Come on, come on, I want to make a wish.’]

Wingdings abruptly stops running back and forth when they reach the caverns and just stares. Sans tips his own head back as soon as they’ve caught up… it’s beautiful. Stars shine against the blackness making it look so vast, making him feel so small and… free. The books say this is just a poor copy of the real sky, he can’t imagine what that must be like. He _wants_ to imagine. The illusion of space makes the underground close around him like a trap, it’s unfair that even his thoughts are constrained by a ceiling and a barrier.

‘Make a wish,’ Lucida says.

Sans blinks and mutters, face pressed half into her sleeve, ‘Wish I could see real stars s’mday.’ He doesn’t want the echo flowers to catch it. It’s the same stupid pipe-dream everyone wishes for, no matter how much he wants it.

Lucida squeezes his shoulder. ‘How about you, sunshine?’

Wingdings runs forward into the middle of a patch of echo flowers, throws his head back and stretches one hand towards the stars. His rainbow striped sweater is shades of blue and gray in the light of the echo flowers and his bones shine. ‘I WISH TO BE VERY COOL AND IMPORTANT AND HELP EVERYONE!’

Sans starts laughing, ribs hitching with it, almost doubled over. Wingdings pulls a face at him and stamps his foot and Sans takes a deep breath, forcing giggles down. ‘Sorry, sorry, I just… that was so cool, bro! Did you practice all the way here?’

[‘It won’t come true if the stars don’t know what I said,’] Wingdings says, matter of factly.

Lucida says, ‘I’m sure the stars would understand you, however you spoke. But that was very good.’

Wingdings bounces on his toes. [‘It’s gonna come true now, right?’]

‘’Course it is,’ says Sans. ‘You don’t even need the stars to help with that one.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcanon is that skeletons emote partly by projecting light from their eye sockets, but how they do it tends to be personal. Sans uses light/dark and, if he's particularly emotional, colours. Papyrus uses googly eyes or anime eyes because he picked up a lot of stuff from watching TV. Wingdings uses, well, wingdings, and would use exclamation points where Papyrus would use googly eyes.


	4. How Sans' Brother Nearly Fired Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Later Sans will bring it up as a joke — he’s such a bad worker his own brother nearly fired him once — and Wingdings will never find it funny.

‘C’mon, it was just a prank,’ Sans says, looking up at his seething brother. For the first time it feels kind of ridiculous, Wingdings in a sweeping lab coat that makes him look taller than he really is, standing behind a heavy desk while Sans stands in front of it.

[‘It’s not a prank if you make money out of it, Sans!’] says Wingdings, spreading his hands palms up. [‘That’s called a _scam_. This is a _respectable job_ and no place for you to indulge your criminal tendencies.’]

‘My what?’ That’s totally unfair. ‘Maybe you don’t like the things I did to put us through college, but that’s pretty ungrateful don’t you think?’

[‘This is a respectable job!’] Wingdings repeats louder. [‘Given to me by the _King_. He has high expectations and I am responsible for my employees! Must you make it _completely_ obvious that you were only hired because you are my brother?’]

‘My qualifications —’

[‘You don’t do your work, you prank the other employees and now you’re committing _crimes_ against them.’] Wingdings speaks over Sans effortlessly.

Loath as Sans is to admit it, he has a point. Sans is here because Wingdings wants him here, accusations of nepotism can’t help but be accurate. So, yeah, he screwed up. This is still not as big a deal as Wingdings is making it. For one thing, he did not make very _much_ money. It was really more a way of keeping score. ‘You didn’t have to hire me.’

[‘Believe me, I’m rethinking that decision!’]

‘Wait, what?’ He didn’t screw up that badly, did he? ‘You don’t mean that.’

[‘I can’t have my employees robbing each other! This isn’t exactly…’] Wingdings clenches his hands into fists. [‘For now you’re suspended without pay. I’ll decide what to do with you later.’]

‘Bro…’

[‘Sans, _go_.’]

Sans wanders back to the break room to collect his stuff feeling dazed. Alphys is there making a cup of tea and she looks up as he grabs his bag. ‘You’re l-leaving early,’ she remarks.

‘Yeah, I’m, uh, kinda fired,’ Sans says.

‘Your _b-b-brother_ fired you?’

Sans can’t quite hide a wince at that. ‘Yeah. I mean, he’s also my boss, so y’know. He couldn’t keep employing someone who didn’t do their work and ran scams on co-workers forever. Makes it a bit too obvious he’s only hiring them as a favour.’

‘D-did he say that to you?’ Alphys demands, shocked. She puts a claw on Sans’ shoulder. ‘He’s n-n-never like that.’

‘Guess he’s just really fed up. Anyway, I’d better get out of here. See you, Alphys.’ Sans shrugs her off and heads out. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to Wingdings later, when they’re both at home, but for now he’s going to find a bar.

Some time later things look better through a haze of alcohol. Although, somewhere behind the haze, is a feeling that this is not going to make things better when he gets home. Nonetheless he’s headed home. He’s not sure whether this is before or after the end of the workday, but it’s definitely one or the other because there aren’t any people out on the streets and conveyer belts. Conveyer belts. He considers for a moment going the long way, but he knows the pattern of these lasers and he’s not _that_ drunk.

_orange, orange, blue, orange, orange, bl — fuck!_

It doesn’t touch him, barely scorches his arm. Grabbing that arm with his other hand he forces himself not to start shivering until he’s passed the last blue laser and reached a solid piece of ground. He sits down, puts his head on his knees and breathes for a minute, then checks his arm — yeah, barely scorched — and rubs fingers over his brow — sweat, but none of the grittiness of dust so at least his stupid underdeveloped magic system hasn’t gone into shock. It had better not have done from something like that or he’ll have to start worrying about paper cuts and his life is stupid enough already.

Once he’s checked himself he takes in his surroundings — a small platform between two sets of conveyer belts, surrounded by lava — and spends another few minutes cursing several hundred years of monster tradition, the more recent invention of lasers, and stupid skeletons who don’t know how drunk they are. He’s going to have phone Wingdings.

Wingdings picks up within three rings. ‘Hello, this is the Great Doctor W.D. Gaster, Royal Scientist.’

‘Hi, Bro, I, uh, kind of need you to pick me up?’

He’s pretty sure Wingdings can tell that he’s drunk, so it’s surprising when he just says, [‘That’s fine. Where are you?’] Sans was expecting either anger or, if Wingdings had really calmed down that fast, triumphant rescue. He wasn’t expecting meek. He tells Wingdings roughly where he is — he’ll be able to see Sans once he gets there, Sans does not want to explain his predicament over the phone — and hangs up feeling confused.

Wingdings appears at the other end of the conveyer belt and catches sight of him. He sighs, hopping onto the conveyer belt and making it through the lasers easily. As soon as he’s in earshot he says, [‘Oh, _Sans._ ’] Normally the familiar exasperation would be comforting, or at least amusing. Right now it’s like pulling on cracked bones.

‘Fine,’ Sans says, standing up unsteadily. ‘You already knew I was useless. Now you’ve got evidence. Want to take a picture?’

Wingdings stops right on the edge of the platform, barely off the conveyer. [‘Oh,’] he says, clasping his hands. [‘That was the wrong thing to say?’]

‘Forget it. Just get me off this thing.’

Wingdings picks him up and Sans instinctively relaxes. Even at odds with his brother, this is too familiar not to be soothing. As Wingdings jumps on the conveyer belt, angled so the lasers will hit him if he misjudges and not Sans, Sans realises his brother is shaking slightly. Under the familiar exasperation that had annoyed him is an even more familiar fear. ‘Sorry,’ he says, tucking himself against Wingdings’ clavicle. ‘Scarin’ you with a dumb stunt like that.’

[‘You should be more careful,’] Wingdings says, swaying and stopping to the rhythm of the lasers. [‘…I’m sorry too. Alphys spoke to me earlier. To be more accurate, she shouted at me.’]

‘Alphys shouted? Really?’

[‘I was surprised too! She was very upset with me.’] Wingdings pauses. [‘She told me I wouldn’t have said anything like that to anyone else I employed, and she’s right. I’ve been a terrible boss and a terrible brother today and not great at all.’]

‘You were a jerk,’ Sans says, but it’s hard to muster any heat when he’s so stupidly relieved they’re not fighting. ‘But no one can be great all the time. This mean you’re unfiring me?’

[‘Assuming you want to come back. I wouldn’t expect anyone else to work for me if I made hurtful comments over a mistake!’] They reach solid ground and Wingdings hesitates, but when Sans shows no sign of moving he just keeps walking.

‘Who else is gonna put up with me?’ Sans says, and laughs when Wingdings makes a distressed noise. ‘Kidding, Bro. Gonna stick with you, though. I’ll just count yelling at me as your mistake and we’re even.’ He can’t even imagine leaving. What would he do with his life without his brother’s ambitions to chase?

[‘Thank you.’] Wingdings says, quietly. [‘And, when it comes to putting up with you, I do realise how often what you’re doing instead of your own work is making mine easier. Especially when it comes to keeping track of different projects and… and the personalities of the people working on them. Sometimes I forget to appreciate that!’]

Wingdings is inspiring but single minded, getting caught up in his own projects, Sans is perceptive but directionless, maybe neither of them could really do this alone. ‘Thanks.’

[‘That said, you do have to give the money back.’]

‘I’m okay with that. It’s gonna sound really dumb if I say I didn’t mean to steal it, isn’t it?’

[‘This hasn’t been your best day for thinking things through.’] Wingdings shifts Sans a little higher in his arms. [‘Mine neither.’]

‘I’ll pay ‘em all back tomorrow. Promise.’

Sans falls asleep on the way home and the next day he watches two episodes of _Mew Mew Kissy Cutie_ with Alphys without laughing at any of it. (He also gives her her share of the money back. She’s a much better friend than he deserves.)


	5. Playing To Your Strengths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans learns to fight.

‘I need something with a soul to practice on, I _don’t_ need you to talk about it!’ Sans’ voice sounds strained and uncharacteristically heated. Tad pauses in the hallway, curious as ever.

‘I’m here to process the results of battle construct experiments,’ says the high and rather haughty voice of Grad Dummy. ‘I’m not here for you to practice fighting on. If that’s what you want you can go to the gym.’

Tad lifts his hand and a white rat appears in it. With a grin he sets it down to run through the slightly open door. Folding his arms and leaning against the wall he closes his eyes and looks through the rat’s. Grad dummy’s cotton body is on the ceiling, pulsing with blue light, but they don’t seem very impressed by this. Sans is leaning back against the opposite wall, sweat standing out on his skull. ‘You can’t stop me.’

A sigh. ‘I suppose not. Dr Gaster would fire me if I hurt you.’

‘Heh.’ Sans’ fingers press fitfully into the wall, his eye flaring blue. A few bone attacks flip up at the dummy on the ceiling. Only one of them hits.

‘I’m going to sleep. Wake me when you’re finished,’ Grad Dummy says. The dismissiveness apparently finishes off Sans’ rapidly waning confidence because he drops the blue attack.

‘Oh, who am I kidding.’ He pushes away from the wall and wipes his face on a sleeve. ‘There, have your nap or whatever. I won’t bother you.’ He bends down on the way to the door and a skeletal hand fills Tad’s vision as it scoops up the rat construct. The construct vanishes as Tad jerks away from the wall with a startled smile.

‘Spyin’ on me?’ Sans asks, closing the door behind him.

‘Mm,’ Tad agrees. ‘You’ll have to improve greatly if you’re planning to defeat a human.’

‘Yeah, tell me somethin’ I don’t know.’ Sans folds his arms. ‘If a human picks a fight me an’ my bro are pretty much boned.’

‘Humans normally don’t fight with magic, so if you can keep them far enough away you might at least buy an opportunity to run.’

‘I can’t keep it up that long. In bursts, maybe, but not…’ Sans sighs. ‘Maybe Wingdings could. If it’s only keepin’ ‘em away maybe he’d do it.’

‘You couldn’t exactly call our Dr Gaster a soldier,’ Tad says, amused at the thought. ‘Did anyone teach you anything about fighting? I can’t imagine a school would think it a good idea for you to be in a room with thirty children learning to control their attacks.’

‘Heh, no, you’re right there. I got to skip gym.’ He rubs his arm where there’s still a mark from the recent determination injection. ‘I dunno why I thought I could pick it up now. I don’t want Wingdings out there alone, y’know? I gotta look out for him. Even if I can’t do a damn thing.’

‘If only you knew an expert in magical constructs you could ask for help,’ Tad says drily.

Sans looks at him, eyelights brightening. ‘Okay.’

‘Hmmmmm?’ Tad raises an eyebrow.

‘Oh, c’mon. Fine, fine. Please, help me get this?’

‘Since you ask so nicely,’ Tad says, grinning. ‘Let’s find a spare room without a peanut gallery.’

There aren’t spare rooms in the lab as such, but there are several test rooms designed to stand up to considerably more than magical construct attacks. Tad picks the nearest one. Once inside he paces a reasonable distance from Sans and turns back to where Sans is shifting on the balls of his feet. Sans has a knack for appearing at ease anywhere, but he’s out of his element now, either fighting or being the one without information.

‘Ready?’ Tad asks.

Sans scowls. ‘I know you’re enjoying this.’

‘Guilty as charged. Now, try throwing an attack at me.’

Sans doesn’t hesitate. It’s not anger, or even callousness, he just knows he’s not dangerous. The bone is a decent size but slow and so badly aimed Tad has to actively step into it to get hit. It does a fairly pitiful amount of damage. Sans’ ribcage is rising and falling fast, although he’s trying to hide it.

‘Try a smaller one,’ says Tad.

‘Are you kidding? That barely did anythin’,’ Sans answers.

‘And making it still exhausted you. That’s not going to do much good in a battle.’

‘So I should just make attacks that do even less? What’s that going to achieve.’

‘It’s rude to ask someone to help and then ignore their advice in favour of giving up,’ Tad says.

Sans’ head jerks towards him, eyelights flickering out. ‘I’m not givin’ up,’ Sans says sharply. ‘I’m just not sure how it’s gonna help.’ He holds his hand out, though, flinging a tiny bone. It barely stings, but it does hit Tad straight on. ‘So, what good did that do?’

‘For one thing it hit me without my having to walk into it,’ says Tad. ‘For another you’re not too tired to follow it up. Have you heard of a death of a thousand cuts?’

‘That sounds like you’ve been raidin’ Alphys’ anime,’ says Sans, grin tilting. ‘But I get the idea. If you’re not strong enough to do much damage, do a little damage a lotta times.’

‘It’s not a question of strength. I imagine Dr Gaster uses the biggest attacks he can make?’

‘Oh, yeah. They’re pretty tough. Sometimes he can do really big ones.’ Sans holds a hand out some way above his own head.

‘That’s not tactics. That’s showboating. Which is undoubtedly your brother’s greatest talent except, perhaps, for science itself.’

Sans looks offended for a moment, before his expression settles on fondly amused. ‘It’s cool, though.’

‘Cool or not, it won’t do him much good against a human.’ Tad says. ‘Which is what has you so worried.’

‘You got me there. But am I really gonna do much good?’

‘Blue magic isn’t my area of expertise,’ says Tad thoughtfully. ‘But I believe most monsters find it harder than magical constructs. You’ve been very confident with it.’

‘I’ve always been pretty good with that.’ Sans shrugs, pensive.

‘It doesn’t require any less power,’ Tad says. ‘Or so Doug’s research would have us believe. The magic reserves are there and when channeling it into a continuous process rather than discrete pieces you can use it.’

‘Yeah, I just,’ Sans holds his hand up as if illustrating a point with it, palm inward. ‘Weak magic systems, y’know? Can’t handle much at once.’

‘So try to make bullets a continuous process. It may not seem very suited to your personality, but I suspect you can go fast.’

‘Huh.’ Sans tilts his head back, considering. Evidently he’s more comfortable being presented with the theory in advance. ‘I can see that. Okay, I’ll try it.’

Tad dodges the spray of small bones that comes at him. They’re poorly spaced, erratic but not irregular enough to trip him up. Sans is focussed more on the space in front of Tad than on Tad himself, hands and eyes moving as if he’s drawing a picture there. It telegraphs his attacks hopelessly, but a human probably wouldn’t know what to look for, and for a beginner he’s doing remarkably well. Tad hops a little progression of bone fences and a bone moving fast in the other direction hits his foot and knocks him over.

‘Well done!’ he says, laughing as he sits up. ‘I should not have forgotten you can be sneaky.’

Sans grins. He’s panting hard through his teeth, but he’s thrown a decent amount of attacks this time when he’s never fought before. ‘Do I get a gold star?’

‘Practice more first.’ Tad stands up and brushes off his sweeping lab coat. ‘For now, we should both go home. I am surprised Dr Gaster hasn’t come looking for you.’

‘Busy with the machine,’ Sans says. ‘My turn to go looking for him if I want dinner.’ He turns away and then glances back. ‘Hey. Thanks.’ Sincerity sits awkwardly on him.

‘You’re welcome.’ Tad lazily waves him off. ‘You know I wish you and your brother well.’

An intriguing pair, those skeletons, he thinks as he walks home on bridges over lava — fortunately lava is no problem for him, now _Waterfall_ makes him shudder at the thought. He’d like to think they’ll come home safe from whatever adventures through time they’re planning, if only so he can hear about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus can fight better than Wingdings -- Wingdings was trained by the monster school system, Papyrus was trained by Sans and Undyne. He still showboats with huge bone attacks, though :D


	6. A Mother Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Amnesia. Sans gets an unexpected visit from his mother and panics.

Sans stands in the open doorway of his apartment trying not to shiver. The skeleton just outside is looking at him with concern, eyelights faintly yellow with it — he inherited that from her, although he uses less colours. His brother had always used symbols but since the accident he hasn’t been showing eyelights at all. She’s wearing a floral sundress over fine bones, probably made it herself.

‘Sans?’ Lucida asks, gently.

‘Mom.’ She can’t be here. She _can’t be here_. He’s been putting her off with reasons why he can’t visit, reasons why she can’t visit. She wasn’t supposed to come anyway. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I was in Waterfall to visit a friend, I thought I might as well stop by on the way back?’ she sounds uncertain now.

There’s a sound from Papyrus’ bedroom where he’s playing with a jigsaw Sans found for him at the dump. Please, please don’t let him come out. Don’t let him ask who this is, don’t let her ask who he is, don’t let her say that Sans doesn’t have a brother, of course she knows, she’s his mother, _who is this?_ Don’t let her leave Papyrus wondering why he woke up in the house of a skeleton who can’t be his brother after all, don’t let him think that’s a lie, _please, Sans can’t lose him, please._ ‘This isn’t a good time,’ Sans says, the words tense but not betraying the panic building under his ribs.

‘I’m starting to wonder if it ever will be,’ she says, eyes cycling to a soft pink, a strangely neutral colour for anger. ‘What are you hiding?’

Of course she can tell, she’s known him his whole life, what did he expect? He wants to laugh, but if he does it’s going to turn into hysterics. ‘Nothin’,’ he says, and could he sound more like a child?

‘Tell me. It can’t be that bad,’ she says.

Telling her sounds great. She knows how to look after a child, she wouldn’t be falling apart trying to do three jobs at once and childcare, he knows because she’s _done_ it. But what can he say? She’s got a son she doesn’t even remember. She’ll just think Sans has gone insane and all the evidence will be on her side and she’ll _tell Papyrus_. He breathes in through his teeth. ‘You want to know what’s wrong? I don’t want you here and you’re here anyway.’

‘You avoid me for months and then I can’t even stop by for coffee?’ Her eyes flash to a darker pink, her voice rises.

‘If you know I’ve been avoiding you then take a hint.’ Sans’ own voice is getting hollower, reverberating.

‘I want to know _why_. Can’t you trust me with anything that happens in your life? Do you even care how much I worry?’

The quiet sounds from the bedroom go silent and Papyrus calls, ‘Sans? Do we have a visitor?’ There’s a mixture of enthusiasm and apprehension in his tone, of course he’d pick up on the raised voices.

‘No. It’s nothin’,’ Sans calls to him. ‘Stay there.’

‘Who’s that?’ Lucida demands. ‘Your boyfriend?’

Sans starts giggling helplessly. What kind of relationship does she think he’s in that he’d go to these lengths to hide it from her? This… this isn’t funny, but even both hands pressed over his mouth can’t stop the laughter bubbling out of him. ‘N-no.’ The bedroom door opening jerks him back to reality, or at least to a more appropriate kind of hysteria. He can’t convincingly lie to them both at once, he can’t explain this, he can’t… He grabs Lucida’s soul and throws her back from the door, slamming it at the same time.

‘Sans, who was that?’ Papyrus asks.

‘No one ‘mportant,’ he says.

Lucida starts hammering on the door and Papyrus flinches. ‘Should we let them in? They seem to really want us to,’ he says.

Sans takes his hands. ‘No. Just… just let ‘em get it out. She’ll give up in the end.’

‘Sans?’ Papyrus’ voice is almost quiet. ‘You’re shaking.’

‘Huh? Yeah, not feelin’ so good right now.’ _Stay calm, he only has a few months’ worth of memories, he’s depending on you. You can’t fall apart._ ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.’ They stand there, transfixed, until the hammering dies down and slow footsteps walk away. Sans gently unwraps his hands from Papyrus’. ‘We’ll be fine.’


End file.
